My mom used to say, “If Maria doesn’t have something to talk about, she’ll tell you a story.”  Apparently I was a little chatterbox in those days, and I have to smile now when I remember the number of times she’d glance at me and say, “Let’s play the quiet game….”

By the age of twelve, I was writing stories every day. I was famous in my family for my “beginnings.” I didn’t want to write something short and manageable. No, I wanted to write…a novel. It wasn’t long before stacks of spiral notebooks gathered dust in my closet.

Then life happened, as it usually does. I did school, got married, took various jobs, had kids, and no hint of the writer-me peeked out from the whirlwind of my activities. Years passed and as it turned out, a brief trip to Japan became a turning point for our family.

We eventually moved to Japan long-term with the hope of making a difference among the isolation and loneliness of so many Japanese young people. But in the end, I was the one who succumbed to loneliness and isolation. Our volunteer team was small and my children were very young. In the end I found myself home alone with them in a faraway country, struggling with the language, struggling to connect, and losing myself. Years went by and I think, looking back, I was depressed. I didn’t really tell anyone. I have a strong survival instinct, and an unwavering belief in the power of hopeful perseverance.

One evening I started writing. It began with a spontaneous thought and became this huge, unwieldy project and I loved it. Laundry piled up, dinner was late, but I was happy. I had tapped into something powerful—a simple creative outlet—and it was amazing what this unleashed in me.

Today I’m in a very different place. A good place. The journey I’ve been on personally has been deeply meaningful for me. So much more than a writing project, it has trickled into my marriage, my parenting, my faith, and my own sense of self. It has colored everything. I’d love it if my work touched someone else’s life with a similar sense of hope or redemption, as it has mine.

This is why I am writing.